


Last Dance

by BeignetBenny



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dance, F/F, F/M, M/M, car crash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-05 19:13:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4191657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeignetBenny/pseuds/BeignetBenny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mary smiled, almost nervously, as she looked down. “Well, I have been giving you two solos since you both started contemporary and you were naturals at it. And in groups I always put you two front in the front, but I’ve never put you two in duets, especially together. I don’t know why I didn’t, the performance would have been amazing. So, I signed you two up for it.”<br/>“You are joking, correct?” Cas asked.<br/>“Of course I’m not. You two are the best teachers that this studio has, and neither of you get paid as much as you really should be. Not to mention that you are the only ones with competition experiences who are still in their prime. And I don’t want to watch our dream fall just because of a few financial problems. The prize money is one hundred thousand dollars and we could really use all of the help we can get to pull this studio back on it’s feet.”<br/>“One hundred thousand,” Dean whistled. “That’s doesn’t sound like a districts. Hell, that doesn’t even sound like a State competition. Who would we go against?”<br/>“It’s national,” Cas cut in, his voice sounding like he was having a hard time believing it himself. “You signed us up for a national competition without us even knowing or preparing?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Are we human?

“Okay Kiddos, I get that it’s because you just got off of break, but there is no reason for you not to remember it. C’mon, how old are you guys now? Most of you I’ve known since you didn’t even know how to walk, I know you can do this,” Dean looked over the girls in the class and when one of them replied with an eyeroll, he sighed. “Yeah, that’s it. You’re running through it again. We’re going to do it again until you’re up to par on it.”

“Why do you keep saying ‘We’re’? If I remember right, all you do is shout directions at us.” One of his students, Claire, said as she folded her arms and tilted her head to the side. Her high ponytail bouncing as she moved.

“You’re in lyrical,” Dean countered. “It’s hard to explain the movements you have to do most of the time. Hell, I’m mostly making up steps but it looks good, doesn’t it? So I do more than just tell you what to do. Besides, if you’re not enjoying the class then you can just stop whenever you want.”

Both Dean and Claire knew it was an empty threat. They get in arguments like that almost every class and she would always find herself back at Winchester’s Dance Academy the next week, same time, same place.

“You know, I just might,” Claire announced. “The next month’s payment is due soon, and if my mom doesn’t pay then I could technically just drop.”

“Again, I know you wouldn’t do that. You’ve been here forever, and you said it yourself, your boyfriend picks you up from dance and that is the only time you get to see him during the week because your mom and dad hates him,” Claire gaped back at him, to which Dean laughed at. “Yeah, I listen. I’m a teacher, it’s something we do. So, one more time?”

The girls sighed and went back to their beginning position, some standing off to the side because they have to run onto the stage and do some tricks that the dancers who start off in the middle can’t do well or at all. It’s mostly just simple leaps, but then again, a lot of his dancers can barely even touch their toes.

“Music’s on.” Dean warned them before leaning against the mirror, something to which he will regret later because he’ll have to clean off the spot he left there. He watches them flow through the steps, only chiming in with a “Smile” or “Be more excited” on occasion. The song had been diamonds by Rihanna. No, not by Rihanna, Sia was it? Whatever they were using was a cover of the song, Dean didn’t know what it was but his students were very insistent on him knowing what they were dancing too. Although him knowing who it was by didn’t change anything. To Dean, the lyrics were numbers and certain steps and the title was just number four, right after his tap class and Castiel’s jazz class song.

God, Cas, just the thought of that dancer appears back in his head every few minutes. Lately more so than usual, his thoughts hadn’t been like that since he was about fifteen. Dance, Cas, Cars, Cas, Work, Cas. It’s not the good daydreaming, not the kind when he once imagined how the dancer’s tan skin would look pressed to his own somewhat pale, freckled skin, both of them with a thin layer of sweat because of lust. It’s been years since he really thought like that. No, Dean hates the guy. He hated him since they were young and Cas told him to not ruin this huge break that he got and wanted to run off with his boyfriend. Maybe hate is too strong of a word, dislikes is better. Even when his heart starts to race just on hearing the man speak and his skin gets heated. Because that is exactly how someone reacts when they dislike someone so strongly, right? They had known each other forever, before those strong feelings, whatever it was they were, even became an idea in Dean’s head.

“Is it okay if we do Show and Tell?” All Dean could think when he heard that all too familiar, scruffy voice, was ‘Speak of the Devil.’

He had the opened cracked only enough so that he could poke his head through, at least being polite enough to not burst through and not entering when the music was still playing. His dark hair was ruffled in the slightest, as if one of his students managed to muss his hair before he had gotten in just to mess with their teacher. The dance teacher just wore a plain white tee shirt and dark gray sweatpants with the Winchester Dance Academy written up the leg with the logo resting right on where his hip bone started.

Dean scratched the back of his neck, thinking over the suggestion. “Uh, sure, go for it, Cas. The only problem is my class isn’t really ready for it, so it’ll just be you guys.” Castiel smiled and walked towards the stereo and began to go through one of the official WDA iPods which held all of the music on it.

“What’s show and tell?” One of Dean’s newer students, Marie, asked as she sat by the mirror at the front of the class along with the rest of the students while Castiel’s class went into their positions.

“It’s just what teachers do when they want some recognition on what they’ve done. The parents don’t really pay too much attention to the choreography, unless they're in competition.” Dean responded.

Cas rolls his eyes. “That’s not entirely, true. The only reason why I’m doing this is because they need to practice with an audience,” He started the music and watched his students for a few moments, before catching the face that Dean was making about the dance. “What?” Castiel asked. “Why are you making that face?”

“This is your jazz dance that is doing the Moulin Rouge themed routine?” Dean asked unbelievably. “Those kids are like, eight.”

“Nine,” Castiel corrected. “The youngest is nine, the oldest is thirteen. Anna, Smile!” He called out to his youngest student, who did exactly what he told her and then some. Anna was in the middle and was doing high kicks, and shimming things that she didn’t even have yet all while having the biggest and brightest but also the most dead-looking smile on her face.

“I can’t believe you’re letting these kids dance like that.”

“I’m not doing it, their mothers are,” Cas sighed. “They insist that their children will win with a routine such as this. The theme of the competition was musicals, so it was either this or Chicago, and we can’t risk losing a competition, there is too much money involved for costumes and transportation, we’d go into debt without the prize money.”

Dean winced in sympathy. “God, I fucking hated competitions. Non stop dancing, quick changes, having to learn so many routines that I didn’t even remember a single step to until the music to that song began playing. It was terrible.”

“Language,” Cas commented as he turned and met with Dean’s eyes. “You shouldn’t speak like that around children.”

“And yet you let them dance like that. Sure thing, I’m sure they’ve heard worse from their parents anyways.”

Castiel didn’t get the chance to respond before the song ended. He congratulated his girls because they did really good with their faces, but promised to work on the faces with Anna next time they have class. “Oh, and one more thing,” Castiel said before leaving the room. “Your mother wishes to speak with both of us after your other classes are over.”

Once classes did end at their scheduled time, he packed his stuff and walked over to the secretary area where children would usually go to make sure their parents paid for their classes or went to see how their costumes look when the binder which held all of the clippings from dance magazines that would become their recital outfits when it’s all together was on the desk. His mother sat in an office chair behind the desk while speaking to Cas. The desk was littered with memorabilia from pictures when the studio first opened to trophies that were just during last competition season.

Out of all that was on her desk, the most popular one was of Castiel, Dean, and his younger brother at their first recital. Dean and Cas were wearing the basic ballet gear because they were only in grade one of cecchetti, even though the two of them dropped out shortly after and pursued dance practices other than ballet.

And then of course, there was that big toothy grinned, floppy haired little boy with a sparkly, purple top hat that covered most of his face. That would be Dean’s little brother, Samuel Keith Winchester. Little Sammy did tap classes, and only tap classes until he was ten. He had started dance the same year as Dean and Cas, but was four years younger than him. Sam doesn’t remember it as a flattering picture of him considering he was missing three of his teeth, two of them being the ones that were right front and center, and his eyes were covered.

Nobody in their family even really know what happened to Sam, his mother thinks it’s college, both Dean and his father, John, hope she’s right. The last time they even heard from him was after a huge argument he had with their father. Even though the two had never been close, that fight was worse than the rest. It was all just boiled up anger and stress from the both of them, taking it out on each other. He was sure Sam was okay, but he still can’t help but worry sometimes.

“So, what is this staff meeting about?” Dean asked once he walked up to where his mother and Cas was before leaning against the desk.

“I guess I was feeling a little nostalgic for when you guys were little and took dance instead of teaching it,” She started. “The videos were there, so I watched some of your old competition performances, and I remembered how good you two were. Then I got an email about a dance competition that is being held soon so-”

“Please don’t say what I’m thinking you want to say, Mary,” Cas interrupted. “There is no way you’re getting the two of us to do competitions. I retired from comp. years ago.”

“You two are still young,” Mary countered. “You two are in your twenties still, and if it makes you feel any better, it’s not a solo competition.”

Dean knit his eyebrows together in confusion. “So, why are you asking us for it then?”

Mary smiled, almost nervously, as she looked down. “Well, I have been giving you two solos since you both started contemporary and you were naturals at it. And in groups I always put you two front in the front, but I’ve never put you two in duets, especially together. I don’t know why I didn’t, the performance would have been amazing. So, I signed you two up for it.”

The dancer’s were quiet for what felt like an eternity. They looked at each other, then back to Mary, before one of them decided to break the silence.

“You are joking, correct?” Cas asked.

“Of course I’m not,” Mary sighed. “You two are the best teachers that this studio has, and neither of you get paid as much as you really should be. Not to mention that you are the only ones with competition experiences who are still in their prime. And I don’t want to watch our dream fall just because of a few financial problems. The prize money is one hundred thousand dollars and we could really use all of the help we can get to pull this studio back on it’s feet.”

“One hundred thousand,” Dean whistled. “That’s doesn’t sound like a districts. Hell, that doesn’t even sound like a State competition. Who would we go against?”

“It’s national,” Cas cut in, his voice sounding like he was having a hard time believing it himself. “You signed us up for a national competition without us even knowing or preparing?”

“You will still have time,” Mary said. “The competition isn’t for three weeks, and I already have the routines mapped out for you, and then I teach you. So, is it a deal?”

Dean and Cas looked at each other once again before sighing and agreeing simultaneously. “It’s a deal.”

“Great, we’ll start training tomorrow.”

#                   

Mary had been Castiel’s dance teacher, coach, and mother figure his entire life, so he got there early as a sign of respect. Even if it did mean taking the public buss rather than carpooling with a neighbor of his who works near the studio. And, he didn’t want to admit it but, he was excited for the competition. Sure, most people had started training for it months before, and they had a few weeks. His adrenalin was already starting to flow through his veins and he just couldn’t wait to get started.

Mary greeted him with a smile when he entered the room and put his bag to the side.

“So, you said you have the routines marked through already?” Castiel asked as he folded one leg in and stretched the other one out before leaning forward and reaching for his foot.

His dance teacher nodded. “Yes, I do actually. I even have the costumes ordered too, since we have some ground to cover.”

“You already have the costumes ordered?” Cas repeated and switched legs. “You don’t know our sizes.”

“I assume it is maybe a size bigger than you were when you were still dancing here.”

Cas let out a breathy laugh. “I was eighteen then, and I’m twenty nine now. It’s been a long time.”

“Well, if you still can do that at twenty nine, I’m sure you still have a twenty nine inch waist and can fit into smalls. But, I got you a  medium just in case.”

Cas stood up and shrugged, “Whatever you think is best.” He slowly slid into the right splits, wincing a little, knowing that he’s out of practice.

“Now you’re just showing off,” Dean said as he stepped into the room and tossed his bag towards the front of the room. “You’re legs shouldn’t be able to do that.”

“I’m not showing off,” Cas said and switched to the left leg. “Me showing off would be over splitting.”

“Can you still do that?”

“Probably not considering I can barely do this,” He looked up at Dean. “You’re late.”

Dean sat down. “Only by a few minutes. So, what exactly did we get ourselves into?”

“Don’t say it like it’s a bad thing. You two should be excited!” Mary said smiling as she stood up and walked over to the stereo. “Like I said before, it’s a duet competition, which is why I chose you.”

“I still don’t understand why it would be a good idea to put us together but continue.”

“Nineteen other schools and dance companies will be participating in it as well. There will be one performance for the first night and then two the next, then one more on the third day. Hip Hop, Contemporary, Jazz, and then whatever the finalist are chosen to do. So we will have one day to organize that dance when you are finalists.”

“Let’s not get too hopeful,” Cas cut in. “I mean, there are nineteen other participants, like you said.”

“Yes, but I believe in you,” Mary said before clicking the play button. Music began to fill the room, some song that Cas didn’t recognize. “And, even though I believe that you can do this, we should probably start with your achilles heel. Hip hop.”

                                                                  

Castiel forgot why he had been even in the slightest bit excited before they had started practicing. He should have expected Mary to drill them to make sure they know what they were doing, but for some reason he thought she would go easy on them instead.

“Kind of like the good old days, huh?” Dean asked when he saw Castiel walk past where he was sitting.

“Kind of like the good old days?” Castiel repeated, then scoffed. “I don’t remember being this sore in the ‘good old days’ as you say.”

Dean smirked as he looked up at him from his seat. “That’s what you get for showing off.”

“I wasn’t showing off.”

“Whatever you say,” Dean laughed. “Anyway, do you have a way to get home?”

Cas shrugged. “My cars in the shop, your shop, you know that.”

“Wasn’t exactly the question, Cas. But I’m going to take a guess and say you were going to walk home, right?” Dean didn’t give the other dancer the chance to respond before he stood up from his seat at the front desk. “I’ll drive you home. I just have to make sure there are no students that need to be taken home to. I swear, half these kids’ parents don’t even remember the pickup time.”

The wait for a man to take him home even though they had barely spoken since the nineties was more than unnerving for Cas. He kept looking at the clock, then down the hall to see if Dean would be coming back anytime soon, then back at the clock.

It had only been ten minutes before Dean had come back, but Cas’ aching muscles made it feel like an eternity. “So, is everything settled?” He asked.

Dean nodded. “Yeah, I just had to lend Krissy my phone because her dad wasn’t coming for some reason.”

“Krissy Chambers?” Castiel asked. “She’s one of my competition students. During class she said her father had been working a lot lately. Maybe that’s why.”

“It’s still not a good reason to forget about your kid.” Dean said before walking past him and out the door. Cas quickly followed him to the car.

“I’m surprised you still drive this.” Cas commented after they pulled out of the parking lot of the dance studio.

“Why?” Dean asked. “It was my dad’s and now he drives a truck I wasn’t going to let him sell or scrap this beauty.”

“Well, for one it is probably twenty years older than you. And two, you wouldn’t exactly imagine a dance teacher driving a muscle car. People might think you’re compensating for something.”

“Do you really expect anything else from me other than this?”

“Perhaps you can get a smart car and then get a rainbow paint job. Just to change it up.”

“I really hope your joking, Cas. You’re monotone voice makes it really hard to tell.”

“Of course I’m joking. You’re father would disown you if you even joked about it.”

“My dad would disown me if he even knew we were talking to each other. Don’t know why he hates you so much, though.”

“Probably something about that happened a while ago that somebody in my family did to someone in yours. Or maybe it’s because I got all of your solos while growing up.”

“Knowing him it’s probably both. ‘Dean, I know you’re only doing this because of your mother, and I don’t care if you don’t like dance anymore,” Dean started mocking his father’s gravely southern accent. “We’re Winchesters, and Winchesters don’t come in second.”

“For what it’s worth, I would have happily let you take most of my solos now that I think about it. I was working myself to hard.”

“No, it’s fine. I wouldn’t have followed through with practicing anyway. Oh, and Cas?” He asked.

“What?”

“I know I’ve known you for a long time now, but I have no idea where you live.”

Cas laughed quietly. “It’s easy. I’ll point out where you need to turn.”

  
****


	2. Inconvenient Fireworks

“Five, Six, Seven, Eight!” Dean was starting to understand exactly why his students would want to drop out after every. If not for the fatigue he would feel after going all out on one dance, then it would be hearing those numbers over and over again. He felt like his head was spinning and his heart was beating hard enough to move his shirt. Dean was out of shape, even after a week of training endlessly for their rough patch that was hip hop. Especially after that week, and what made it even worse was that he could barely even move his arms over his head by the end of the day.

Cas on the other hand, was still doing amazingly, no matter how much he complained about sore muscles on the first day. Dean was doing everything just to keep up with him without losing consciousness after every run through. With two weeks left until the competition, Cas worked back up to looking like he didn’t take a ten year break from professional dancing and Dean still unable to touch his toes unless he’s really trying.

“Okay, okay, stop,” Mary interrupted them before they even got halfway through their jazz routine. “Dean, are you feeling alright?”

“Other than the black spots flickering over my eyes, I’m awesome.”

“Maybe you should sit down.”

“Will do,” Dean said breathlessly before laying down on the cold floor. “Do you think we can take five?”

Mary nodded at her son. “Oh, and do you think you can get me something from the vending machine. You can get the money out of my purse and get something for yourself, too.”

Dean sighed dramatically before standing up and stepping out of the room, leaving the door open behind him.

He barely made it around the corner before he heard his mother speak to Cas.

“You are doing very good, Cas. I don’t know why you thought you wouldn’t. But, there is one small thing I think you should work on a little more.”

“Is it still the ‘too feminine’ thing? I try to change my dancing style every time I have the chance but it still doesn’t -”

“That wasn’t what I was going to say, sweetheart. That’s just how you are and you’re an amazing dancer. There’s nothing to change with that,” The smile could be heard in her voice. “It’s just, you need to put more emotion into your dance. You keep the same face through the entire routine.”

Cas sighed. “Yes, I know I should try. It just doesn’t work. I’m not very good at getting chemistry with my dance partners. You know that.”

“You shouldn’t let one person ruin everything for you like that.”

“It wasn’t just him. It was everything that came after him, too.”

“Well, at least try. You and Dean are amazing dancers and we can’t have either of you off your game. I know you can do it.”

Dean thought over everything he had heard. It was odd for him to hear his mother criticizing Cas like that, even if it was in the nicest way possible. He used to be her star student in all of the classes. And then there was the part when she said not to let one person ruin dance for him, which worried Dean the most. Just when Mary mentioned it, Cas became more defensive about the relationship between him and the mystery man.

“Could you not find my purse?” Mary asked as she walked up to her oldest son.

“Uh… Sorry, couldn’t find it,” He stuttered. “What was all of that about?” He motioned inside the studio.

“Just some pointers. You two should start working on more than just your technique, by the way. You have the steps down, now all you need to work on is the faces.”

********

 

Cas found himself staring at his reflection in the floor to ceiling mirror that took up an entire wall. Faces were always the hardest part with him, even when he still did enjoy the dances he would do. “I have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing.”

“It’s not that hard. Just aim for less murderer and more crazy ex,” Dean shrugged. “At least that’s what mom’s notes say for this one.”

“Maybe we should just continue to work on the dance rather than how either of us look doing it,” Cas said as he turned from the mirror to look at Dean. “And then there is the prop we would need to work around. And then there’s the kiss that she wrote in. Which I truly think is unnecessary. I mean, what is someone supposed to do with a kiss that last eight counts anyway? It’s taking up precious time that we could be doing anything else.”

“Cas, you’re babbling,” Dean said smiling. He then closed the gap of space between them. “Eight counts aren’t that hard. Grab each others faces on one, two,” He preceded to cup Cas’ face gently. “Pull in on three, four,” He pulled them together so their lips were just centimeters away. “Kiss on five, six, seven, eight. Then pull away when the next counts start.” Dean let go and went back to where he was standing before.

It felt far too mechanical for both of them and they each knew the kiss was just for show, hopefully getting a few more points up on their score or at least to get the audience to cheer a little louder for the rest of their routine. Yet, Cas’ heart felt as if it was beating so hard and so fast that it could have been the drums in their song. Dean, on the other hand, let go of a breath that Cas didn’t even realize the other was holding and his face was red.

“You know what,” Dean started again as he rubbed at the back of his neck nervously. “You’re right, the prop would still be a huge thing to work around right now and we really need it for the jazz routine. How about we work on lyrical? Or contemporary, I have no idea what they’re calling it.”

Castiel wanted nothing more than to ask if Dean was just going to drop what had happened. What had almost happened. His heart was still beating a little to hard for his chest and his head was spinning. Fouettes, Pirouettes, whatever it was that his mind decided to do it just kept going and going as if it was trying to break a record or showing off. Whatever it was, he needed it to stop because dance required perfect focus and he didn’t have time to oggle at a dance partner. Even if it was Dean.

“You’re right,” Cas finally said after taking a deep breath. “We should work on lyrical now and figure out jazz later, can you turn on the music?” Dean nodded and went over to the stereo to start the music as Cas got into his beginning position.

“Music is on,” Dean said to Cas as he got into his beginning space as well. “Ready?”

Cas nodded. “Oh, and try not to drop me.”

“Can’t make promises, Cas.”

************ ** **

“How was dance class today?” Dean sighed at the usual greeting from his co worker, Ash, as he walked into the mechanics.

“It went great, actually,” Dean responded as he leaned against the desk. “You seem to forget that my entire job there consists of seeing girls bend over and do splits in sports bras and booty shorts, Mr. ‘I haven’t seen tits since my mother stopped breastfeeding me.’”

Ash rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re even talking about. Besides, you don’t even like chicks.”

“I like girls, Ash. I’m bi, not ‘full gay’. And besides, here, I’m straight as a fucking board.”

“Why haven’t you told your dad, anyway.”

“I pick and choose my battles. Anyway, is he even here today?”

Ash nodded and pointed toward the door behind him. “He’s back in the garage with Bobby.”

Dean nodded and walked into the garage. The smell of oil filled his nostrils and the sound of drills filled his ears as he grabbed the pair of coveralls that had his name embroidered on them off the hook on the wall.

“Dean, you’re back,” Bobby said as he stood up from the jalopy he was taking apart. “That pimpmobile that you were working on is still waiting for you back there.”

“It’s a seventy eight Lincoln Continental, Bobby. It’s a good car.” Dean said as he made the walk from the front to where Cas’ car was.

“Why have you been working on that one for so long, anyway?” Dean’s father chimed in as he looked over at him. “Shoulda’ been done days ago.”

“Well, there were a lot of problems with it.”

“Was one of the problems that disco ball embedded in the ceiling?” Bobby chimed in.

“Give him a break, it was his dad’s and he doesn’t have the money to get a new one yet.”

They continued to work without speaking. The only noise was the sound of metal either being drilled onto the cars or dropped onto the ground and the music coming from the radio on the classic rock station. Dean had barely gotten anywhere with his work before he saw he got a text message. From none other than Castiel Novak.

****

Cas

>>Are you busy right now?

<< Kinda

<< Why?

>> I was just thinking we still need to work on the prop for the jazz routine

>> And possibly work on the dance as well

****

‘You’re just saying that because of the ki-” Dean deleted what he had typed, not wanting to ruin his chance with Cas no matter how small it was by scaring him away. He saw the face that his dance partner made. But whether that face was good or not, he wasn’t entirely sure.

****

Cas

<< Yeah, sounds like a plan. But I’m at work right now so how about tomorrow? I can drive you there after practice.

>> Okay, that will work. See you tomorrow

******  
  
**


	3. When my Time comes around

“Did you get everything?” Cas asked as he climbed out of the car and closed the door behind him.

“Course I did,” Dean responded as he took his apartment key out and began to walk towards the door. “It’s inside already. I got it yesterday after my shift at the mechanics.”

“Speaking of mechanics,” He started. “Don’t you think your father is kind of suffocating you?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“It’s just,” Cas looked back to the apartment across the street. “That is where he lives, correct?” Dean nodded. “And you work for him. Do you really do anything other than work whether it be for your mother or father?”

“Hey, it’s not my fault I’m close to both of them,” He scoffed. “Besides, I split my time between the two of them so they can each be out of the house and away from each other until they have to come back to where their ex-spouse lives.”

“You’re parents are divorced?”

“Of course they are. You’ve seen them around each other. It was around when I was five, they had fought a lot even before Sam was born. They would have divorced sooner if it wasn’t for them trying to save the relationship by having Sam. It lasted a year longer, then they split. Sam didn’t know about it until he was about ten.”

“So why do they live in the same house?” Castiel couldn’t help but ask. He went through something similar to Dean, but he was older at the time and resented his parents for it more and moved as far away as soon as he could. He hasn’t spoken to either of them for ten years.

“Because they didn’t want to ruin the family and they’re both stubborn. Like all Winchesters are,” Dean rubbed a hand over his face, whether it was to hide the tears that began to form or to wake himself up a little from the long day, even he didn’t know. “You know what, that doesn’t matter. Are you okay with pizza for dinner? I was just going to order some. There’s no dancer’s figure you’re trying to keep up with, right?”

Castiel shrugged. “There is no weight I’m particularly trying to keep up with, but I probably should. You’re mother expects me to fit into what I used to as a teenager.”

“Are you serious?” Dean asked as he unlocked and opened the door. “No offense, by the way, but you were eighteen and you were always at the studio working on your solos and crap like that.”

“It wasn’t really crap to me…”

“Sorry. You have always been really hard to talk to.”

Cas smiled and looked over at Dean. “That might be because this is the first time you’ve really tried in years,” He didn’t bother waiting for a response before he began looking around the apartment.

Dean followed suit in looking around his living space. Most people expect something else from him. As if he would have this nice bachelor pad with a big screen TV and surround sound, playing all the classics like Led Zeppelin and ACDC, but he didn’t.

He had the basics, a couch in a dark brown leather and a television from the nineties that he got at a thrift store for twenty dollars. The rest of the living space was just covered in old posters from movies that he loved as a kid and bands that he still loved even though most of them didn’t even exist anymore. The kitchen was just an average small kitchen and his bedroom was the same.

“It’s kind of…” Cas began as he continued to look around.

“Less than you expected? Small?” Dean offered suggestions.

“Cozy,” Cas decided. “It is very cozy. It doesn’t really look lived in though.”

Dean shrugged. “I’m barely here. All I do is sleep, eat, then clean up and head back to work. Speaking of work. The materials are in my room. You just wait here. Try not to touch anything.”

When Castiel nodded, Dean went to his room and begin to look through his closet because he was sure he had put it in there.

“There you are.” Dean said as he picked up the bag when he found it in the far back of the closet. In the corner of his eye he caught a shine coming from somewhere underneath where he had just been looking. He moved a few more things around to try and find whatever it was that was sparkling. When he saw it, he couldn’t help the smile that spread on his face. He forgot he had even kept everything in their. His dance trophies, from his first year ones that were made of plastic to his final year in competition where he got a real trophy made out of metal with a plaque that had his name on it.  It wasn’t even just the trophies that he saw in the box, there were tape cassettes of old performances, each had tape on them with which performance and year it was from.

                                                                                

They let the music from the videos play in the background as they ate and worked on the door prop. Cas would make an occasional comment about the performances that he had missed when it came to school situations or his mother pulling him out. Dean would always take his solos when something else came up, and Cas had to admit, he thought Dean did a lot better than himself. “What year is this one?” Castiel asked as another one began shortly after as he grabbed another piece of pizza and leaned back on Dean’s shoulder, while the other dancer continued measuring the wood for their prop.

Dean glanced up at the TV and smiled. “I think that might be one of our first recitals.”

“Really?” Cas asked as he began to pay closer attention to the television. When the music begun, he smiled as well. He recognized the music instantly as the first and last grade one cecchetti performance on the stage.

“God, I remember wanting to drop that class every time we needed to go to practice,” Dean commented. “I hated it.”

“But you were good,” Cas reminded him. “Great even.”

“I was eight and my mom was teaching us. When we got home I practiced. Doesn’t change the fact that I dropped as soon as I could.”

“You didn’t take the cecchetti exam?” Cas asked. “I did, even when they stopped adding that class to the end because we didn’t have a big enough tap line. I didn’t move on to grade two, but I finished what I started.”

Dean shrugged. “What can I say, I have commitment issues. Be happy I stuck with lyrical for so long afterwards.”

Cas paused, becoming more interested with the grease on the pizza box then Dean.

“Did I say something wrong?” Dean questioned as he leaned forward, trying to meet Cas’ eyes.

“No, I was just thinking,” Cas said, looking at Dean again. “What made you keep with it?”

‘You.’ Dean thought, but wouldn’t risk saying it out loud. Besides, Cas being there was only half of the equation. He did enjoy the time where he could really be himself and people would appreciate what he was doing. “I mean, I enjoyed what I was doing most of the time. Helping out with the teachers when I wasn’t in the classes was also a pretty big thing that I enjoyed. Can’t really do that when you’re not a member of the dance studio. What made you keep with it?”

Castiel shrugged. “Peer pressure, mostly. I was good at what I did, but I didn’t particularly enjoy myself. Dance was the only thing I felt I could really do, so I did it,” He sighed, letting his head drop back to the couch. “Of course, with no backup plan. I guess I’m kind of stupid for thinking I would be able to make it. Everybody told me it would be hard and I just didn’t believe them, because I was good.”

It was quiet between them again, Dean thought over the words. Again, he couldn’t believe that Cas would think of himself like that. To Dean, Cas was amazing at everything he did. He was strong and passionate when he needed to be in certain dances then graceful with clean, swift movements in the others. Dean knows he still has strong feelings for the man, but as the time he has spent with him progresses, he can’t quite figure out what those feelings are.

“But not great,” Cas continued. “Only good.”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” Dean insisted. “You were and still are amazing at what you do. Don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise.”

“You were one of the people who told me otherwise…” Cas said as he stood up from his spot, holding the empty pizza box. “I should probably go toss this out.”

“Wait, don’t change the topic. I don’t remember ever saying that to you.” Dean stood up and grabbed Cas’ shoulder, turning him towards himself. “Why would I say that to you? Hell, I idolized you when we were younger. High grades, amazing solos. Do you know even know how hard it was to share center with you during competitions?”

“I can imagine it being difficult,” Cas agreed. “But I do also distinctly taking a few of my solos.”

“Only because you weren’t putting enough feeling into it.”

“Like you would actually do better.” Cas sighed. “Were we like this when we were younger. The arguing I mean…”

Dean shrugged. “How should I remember. Try calling my mom and ask how much of a pain in the ass we were.”

“Where is your mother anyway?” Cas asked, but before he was given an answer, his phone began to ring. He excused himself and walked to the other room, leaving Cas to reminisce on their old performances.

When he got into the other room, he checked over the number. Dean hesitated with answering when he didn’t recognize the number. After three rings, he answered. “Hello?”

“Hello, is this Dean Winchester?” The sound of the voice that came from the other end sounded panicked.

“Yeah-” He cleared his throat. “Yes. What’s wrong?”

“This is Saint Luke’s hospital. Mary Winchester was admitted into our ER unit thirty minutes ago due to a car accident on K-10.”

Dean felt his heart leap into his throat. He couldn’t find any words to say in response. What was there even to say? “K-10?” Was all that he could manage.

“Yes. You were one of the emergency contacts. We have already contacted your father and made an attempt to reach your brother, but the number was out of order. We also need to you to come to answer a few questions for us about your mother’s health because your father says he is unaware of anything to do with that? When will you be able to be there?”

 


	4. Last Dance of Mary Jane

“Dean, you haven’t said a word since we got in the car…”Castiel prompted, trying to meet Dean’s eyes, but the other kept his eyes locked on the road ahead of them. His hands gripping the steering wheel to the point that his knuckles went white and the blood couldn’t flow to his hands. “I really need to know what’s happening. All you said was that we needed to go the the hospital. I’m worried, Dean.”

Again, the younger dancer wouldn’t so much as blink or even do anything to show that he was aware of the words leaving Castiel’s mouth. He began to panic more, if Dean was reacting like that, it must have been something extremely terrible. Maybe it was his uncle Bobby, getting hurt somehow at the mechanics. Or Sam, finally being found, but instead of alive and well, in a body bag. Possibly John, or Mary. “It’s Mary isn’t it?” Cas asked. “What happened to Mary? Is she okay?”

“How the hell should I know?” Dean finally bit back, taking his attention away from the road to look at Cas for a split second before looking forward once more. “All I know is that she got in a car accident and I was an emergency contact. And if that’s not a bad enough sign, my dad knows nothing about her allergies or past health situations so they need me to answer everything before they can even start to work on her,” He sighed to calm himself and readjusted his grip on the steering wheel. “I just need some time, Cas. As soon as I know what’s happening, I’ll fill you in.”

With that, Cas was left alone with his thoughts. He always hated that about the Winchesters. They kept to themselves, held everything in and blew up unexpectedly. Castiel was surprised he even got the reaction that he did out of Dean. Honestly, he was expecting a little more of the cold shoulder he was getting and then maybe a glance.

The dancer wanted to ask more. Who hit her? Where did it happen? All five Ws. But, he knew better than to push Dean more, so he filled in the spots himself. It was a weekend, late at night. The traffic had to be heavy, drunkards driving because at the point they had already been kicked out of the bar. It was pretty late after all. They drive, and then they managed to crash into Mary. Whatever they were driving probably destroyed her tiny, red, 2009 PT Cruiser. Anything would have destroyed that thing, and everything in it.

He didn’t even want to think about losing someone so influential in his life. Just the thought made his heart ache like he lost her already. She was the only one who actually believed he could fulfill his dream. Even his own mother didn’t think it would work out for him.

                                                                                         

April, 2002

Castiel had too many things on his mind than should be healthy. First, there was school, always put front and center in his household until lately. College loomed over him like a dark storm cloud and he was the desert. He needed the water more than anything and he always heard that lightning was just a cleansing of the sky. But that didn’t change the fact that the loud, intensity of it made him want to push it back. The storm can come later, a few more dry sunny days won’t hurt to much.

Then, of course, there was dance. That had been his entire life since he was eight. Eat, sleep, school, dance was how his day to day existence consisted of. Sure, if you were to cut out the school his life would sound like a novelty T-shirt from the tween clothing store that his younger half-sister would still shop from despite being past the age of twelve. Eating, sleeping, and dancing wasn’t exactly a walk in the park for him either. He was good, better than most people, and he actually had the chance to make it his career. His mother told him that it wouldn’t work, but Cas knew himself and Balthazar knew him just as well. Did he miss having Mary as his main coach, always. But she can just believe in him from the sidelines and cheer him on because he knows that only a few others would be there too. At least until he got into the contemporary dance company that he was hoping for.

His hands shook in excitement every day they had practice. They had scheduled a surprise check on him and see what he can actually do while improving. Cas picked the song he wanted to dance to months before, and he had listened to it somewhere around one hundred times while waiting for them to come in and finally watch him and say, “Castiel Novak, we would like you to be one of the select few to do a formal audition at our studio.”

And then, it happened. On a sunny Friday class, specifically for the comp kids because they had a big competition coming up. The same competition in which Cas would do his last solo for the dance studio. Mary had told him it might not be the last, as did Balthazar. The dance company could hold back the results for months and they could still say no. But he didn’t want to believe them. He knew he was better than all those people.

“Is a Castiel Novak in this class?” A woman with rich brown said over the music as she waltzed right into their practice as if she owned the place, with Balthazar on her heels.

He held back his comment of correcting her pronunciation of his name, as did everyone else in the class. Even the ones who didn’t recognize who she was, knew she had to be pretty important.

Except of course, Dean. He nudged Cas to gain his attention, “Who the hell is the secretary looking chick?”

“You’re joking, right?” He asked, but when he just got a shrug and a confused look on his face, Cas explained. “That’s Hannah Carroll. She’s the head of Paradise Dance Studio.  It’s one of the biggest in the United States.”

“Then how come I’ve never heard of it.”

“Because your content with just working on cars when you get older,” Cas said as he ran a hand through his hair, trying to make it look a little more presentable. “And I’m not. So, just don’t ruin this for me.”

“Me?” Dean said disbelievingly. “Ruin it for you? That cocky attitude you have might do that itself. You seem to forget something, Cas. We live in a small town, there’s not that many people to impress. Just because you’re good, doesn’t mean you’re going to be great. Hell, with the way you’re talking, they could take me to if I start prancing around because I got a few standing ovations before, too. So of course they would have to take me, because I’m good.”

“I don’t think you’re really catching what I’m trying to say, Dean,” Castiel began as he took a few steps away from him to get in his starting position. “You weren’t trying. You can do other things. This is the only thing I’m good at, so let me have my chance to actually get out of here without my understudy messing it up by doing something somehow better.”

“Dean, please go sit down with the rest of the students,” Mary said as she walked over to them, placing a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “You should know by now how much this means to him,” Dean bitterly did as his mother said, while mumbling something under his breath. Mary turned towards Castiel. The stray hairs in her loose bun falling to her face as she turned her head. “I know you can do this. We’ve been working on your improv for quite sometime now. You’ll make it to the auditions, I promise. I know you can do it.”

Castiel laughed nervously. “Is it bad that you sound more encouraging than my own mother did about this?”

“I understand that she doesn’t feel very strongly about how you want your life to go. But, I also know that when you do make it in, she’ll push you harder than I ever did. So will Balthazar, even though his age still concerns me. Promise me you’ll do your best? Even when I’m

not there to teach you anymore?”

“Of course.”

 

                                                                                         

“Is everything going okay?” Castiel asked once he saw Dean walk back from where the doctor had pulled him too. They finally made it to the hospital, and the longer they were there the more wet he saw Dean’s eyes become and the heavier his own heart felt.

“As okay as it can be…” Dean said, steadying his voice. “They mentioned that the crash messed up pretty much everything. Her spine was crushed, her head was bleeding, she had bruises everywhere.”

“But she’s stable?” Castiel insisted, hoping that he was correct.

“She can breath on her own and her hearts still pumping, yeah.” Dean answered. His eyes were bloodshot and his hands shook. Dean wouldn’t risk meeting Cas in the eyes, but he could tell how scared the Winchester was.

“Did they let you see her?” He asked. Dean responded by shaking his head “Should we try calling Sam again?”

“Why would we do that?” He bit back

“Because he’s your brother and Mary is his mother too.”

“Yeah, well he hasn’t been around for the past few years,” Dean sat down in the waiting chair. “I don’t see why it would even really make a difference for him. No calls, nothing.”

Castiel sat down next to him, both of them being silent for a few minutes. Watching the worried family members and children mourning over their relatives after being told that it’s just like a very long nap.

“I can’t stay in here, Cas…” Dean said, finally speaking up again.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean, we’re surrounded by people who are dying. It’s not exactly somewhere I want to be for an untold amount of hours. The studios close enough that if something actually happens, we can get back here in an instant.”

The drive between them was silent, and Cas couldn’t help but watch Dean as he drove. His knuckles went white on the wheel and he would just look forward. Cas might have even seen a few tears slip down Dean’s cheeks, but he knew better than to bring it up.

He looked down into his lap and listened as the faint sound of the radio played. The voices continued, but he couldn’t quite catch much of what they were saying. He reached to turn the noise up, but Dean just glared over at him.

“It’s too quiet.”

“Just don’t.”

“Why?”

“Because I just need to think.”

“You can think with the radio on.”

“Fine,” Dean huffed as he turned the radio on. “I can’t handle my own thoughts anyway.”

**  
  
  
**

                                                                                         

“You’re not stretching hard enough,” the grating British accent burned his ears as much as the point that he had to hold his foot at. “If you’re going to land your stag then you need to stretch a lot harder than that. Since you are auditioning for your dream school and all, you have to make it perfect. At least me being one of the judges should help.”

“That doesn’t help at all, you’re too distracting. You take up to much and then you just take it away like it doesn’t matter at all.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean,” Cas said, as he stood straight, putting his leg down from the ballet barre. “You get really close to one of your pupils, and they think there could actually be something there and then you just...”

“Still not catching on, Cas.” Balthazar took a step closer to Castiel, who just took a step away.

“I caught you,” Cas said after a moment. “With one of the woman who already dances here,”

“Oh,” He paused, looking at the ground. “She’s just a student of mine.”

“I don’t care who she is. I just thought there was more between us then just me being your student that you just so happen to have sex with. Is that really it? And if it is, is that how you treat all of your students?” Cas asked, his face beginning to heat up, but before he gave Balthazar the chance to speak again, he continued. This time in an almost toneless voice. “You know what? Forget it.”

“Cassie, don’t act like that.” Balthazar insisted, but Castiel ignored him and walked into the studio as he tucked the container away into his duffle bag.

Cas stayed quiet through the auditions, watching one after the other go after the same dream he had. The longer he had to wait, the more his idea of actually managing to get in depleted. Especially since Balthazar was one of the teachers at the school. Just the way he was looking at the other maybe students made Castiel’s blood boil.

“Castiel Novak?” Ms. Carroll read from a name card and looked up. “It’s your turn.”

"Right, of course." Castiel took a deep breath and stepped forward. He could feel all the eyes of the other candidates staring into him. He got into his beginning position and waited for the music to flow out from the speakers. He took a deep breath and began to step in time to the rhythm. He had practiced that exact routines hundreds of times by himself, but his heart still continued to beat faster and faster.  Although he was only a few steps in, he felt a layer of sweat begin to form on his skin, causing his t-shirt to stick to his chest. He did a smooth fouetté, and as he spotted toward the front, he saw the Ms. Carroll write something onto her notepad with a lip worried in her teeth. As he came out of his turn, he went into a graceful stag leap, but came down hard. There was a snapping sound in his ankle as pain shot up his leg immediately after, causing him to stop.

“Are you alright?” Ms. Carroll asked, as she looked at him.

“Yes, I’m fine. Just give me a moment. I can still do it.”

“I really don’t think that’s true…”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I doubt you would manage to impress us, even if you didn’t hurt yourself,” Castiel stuttered, trying to form words, but Ms. Carroll continued. “You weren’t putting enough emotion into it.”

“I can vouch for that,” Balthazar cut in. “You keep this one face through the entire routine, no matter what it is you’re doing.”

“I don’t think you understand-” Cas stuttered. “This is all I know how to do. You can’t just say no. I hurt myself, you should be able to give me another chance, right?”

“I’m very sorry, Castiel,” Ms. Carroll said. “You already did run out of time, and we have to judge everyone as equally as possible. There is a closet down the hall with a first aid kit, but after you patch yourself up, you will need to leave.”

Cas looked down and swallowed deeply. “Thank you for your time.” He croaked out before limping out of the room.

                                                                                        

“The sun is coming up, and we’ve been here all night…” Dean’s eyes fluttered open when he heard the familiar scruffy voice coming from next to him. “You fell asleep in the car. I brought you into the studio. We haven’t gotten any calls from them yet.”

Castiel sat down on the hard, wooden floor next to him, then handed him a bottle of water and a granola bar.

Dean took the food and thanked Cas, but didn’t bother saying much else past that, so Castiel took it upon himself to hold the conversation. “She’ll be okay, Dean, I promise. She’s so stubborn that she won’t go down without a fight. A small car accident is nothing, right?”

“It was a three car pile up. I wouldn’t exactly say that was little, but thanks for trying.”

“Look at me,” Cas said, turning Dean’s face towards him. “You have dark circles around your eyes and you really need a shower. I’m taking you back home.”

“But we need to be close enough-” He slurred, but before he could finish, Castiel interrupted.

“I live closer than you do. You can just sleep on my couch, even if it’s for a few hours. And, if we get a call, I’ll make sure to tell you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this one is super choppy. But, I really wanted to update.


End file.
